A Melon Shaped Like Yours
by Spoilerwolf
Summary: Season 7: Sam's head is pretty full these days - it's not enough that the Leviathans are running loose, or that his brother is on a breakdown. Now the devil is doing a hoedown in his head. How does Sam get up in the morning?


A/N: Wow, it's been a while huh? *ducks* I swear, I meant to do more writing than this! I won't make excuses (not really anyway :D ) though. All I can say is... I'll try harder?

This short fic of snippets is for Shadowhund – who needed some cheering up – as we all do.

A/N: A look into the thoughts of Sam through parts of season 7 - seeing as how we didn't get enough.

* * *

For Sam, leaving the hospital was a blur.

He didn't remember being dragged into the ambulance and shoved in the back by Bobby. He didn't hear the squeal of tires on asphalt, or the breathy wheezes from his brother who struggled when the pain medication wore off.

Sam drifted somewhere between consciousness and memory.

Both consciousness and memory he would rather forget.

When Sam finally peeled open heavy lids it was to a darkened back room, a heavy down blanket tucked around him, giving warmth to his chilled body. The wood interior around the room made Sam think _cabin_. That thought was only strengthened with the antlers pinned above the doorway, leading out towards a small living room. The muted sound of a TV in the distance was the only recognizable sound in the seemingly silent cabin, but the crushing pain in his head pulled a whine from the back of his throat, garnering his immediate attention.

A heavy hand rested on his forehead a moment later. "Hey Sam. How are you feeling son?"

The pain was blinding – like an electric fire burned in his brain. He blinked back tears and tried to place the blurred figure. "B…b…bobby."

Bobby's face slowly came into focus. "About time, son. Was getting worried about ya." Bobby seemed occupied with something on the table for a few seconds before a syringe came into view. "I'm sure you're head feels like its ten sizes too big, but all you need to worry about is just getting some rest, alright? We got things covered, Sam."

Sam just stared at the old man for a few seconds, not comprehending. His head hurt, that much he knew. What had happened, Sam couldn't remember.

Maybe he didn't _want_ to remember.

Sam felt a small tug at his right arm and watched as Bobby cleaned the top off the nearest port on the IV and injected the syringe's contents into it, feeling heat creep up his arm. Eyes feeling suddenly heavy, Sam watched dully as Bobby cleaned up the bedside table.

As he turned to leave, Bobby patted Sam on the arm, staring hard into Sam's bleary eyes. "Just rest now – everything's going to be just fine. We're all going to be fine, okay?"

Sam nodded dumbly, not sure of what Bobby wanted from him.

As Bobby turned around and headed out the door, Sam's eyes widened at the figure waiting at the threshold to his room and felt his headache blossom and spread ice down his veins as he shivered.

Resting a shoulder against the doorway, Lucifer grinned at him. "Yeah Sammy boy – it's all going to be fine. Just you and me and the devil makes three."

* * *

Sam's always been a good runner.

Even when his Dad gave him crap about everything else hunting related when he was younger, his Dad never gave him trouble when it came to running.

Sam had a natural sprinters grace, long legs that were built for long distance, much to his brother's bemusement when he got older… and taller.

Running used to be a stress relief for Sam. The pounding in your ears, the puffs of air going in and out of his lungs with each step, the slap of shoes on cement was almost hypnotic once you got into your stride.

Dean used to run with him when they were kids – would beat Sam mercilessly when he was younger, until Sam's growth spurt finally kicked in when he turned sixteen and suddenly running lost its allure to his older brother. Dean then started to prefer poker playing and pool over the cardio exercise of running. Dean made up for it in different ways – sparring was still important, an event that he joyously beat Sam into submission on most days.

Sam though, he kept up with running - even when he went to school. Even Jess enjoyed going on jogs with him through the campus. They would stop at the corner store near their apartment on the way back, taking a slower pace as they held hands and shared a cool drink, enjoying the warm weather as they trekked back home.

It's funny how the years change things.

Running isn't the soothing cadence that it used to be. Now Sam finds himself running not out of enjoyment, but to escape.

From Lucifer.

Dean never asked, but Sam suspected that his brother knew this was another attempt at a coping mechanism – which it was.

One that was successful at times and a total failure the next.

It started about two months after the wall came down – the idea to start running again.

Lucifer was singing at the foot of his bed before the alarm went off, high pitched and grating on the eardrums.

Sam groaned, covering his head with the blanket and burying his face in the pillow to block out the noise.

He jumped a moment later when he felt Lucifer's breath ghost across his ear. "You know, it's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you, Sam."

Sam thrashed in bed, ripping the blankets off of him, as if the thin sheets were covered in flames. He glanced in Dean's direction; his brother paused, one foot raised to slip into his jeans, raising an eyebrow in question. "Bad dream." He murmured, before pulling himself up and into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.

He turned to the sink and soon had cold water running, splashing some onto his face. His reflection showed the dark smudges under his eyes, the pinched brow and slight feel of stubble under the pads of his fingers as he ran a tired hand over his jaw.

"Looking tired there, champ."

Sam ignored Lucifer and dug his thumb into his hand, watching Lucifer blink out of existence with a scowl.

The truth was, he _was _tired. Exhausted, really. The hallucinations were bad enough, but nightmares plagued his sleep when he closed his eyes, and Lucifer was always waiting for him when he lurched awake from Hell`s cage.

Sam startled when he heard his brother bang on the door. "Dude, are you finished preening in there? I gotta take a leak, man."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I'll be out in a sec."

Dean grumbled something on the other side, but moved away from the door.

Sam barely had the door open before Dean pushed passed him with a shy grin. "Duty calls, man."

Then the door was shut in his face.

Sam sat down heavily at the end of his bed, pounding head cradled in his hands. If only he could get a moment's peace….

As if reading his thoughts, he felt the bed dip beside him. "Aww, is little Sammy getting burnt out?"

The words came out mockingly, Lucifer's grin predatory when gazing at his defeated posture. He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders.

Sam shuddered.

"You can't outrun your problems, kiddo. They just-", Lucifer made a vague gesture to encompass the room, "- follow you wherever you go."

In the terror that gripped him, Sam had an idea come to him. Maybe he couldn't outrun his problems – who was he kidding? His problems were lifetime ones – but perhaps he could drown out the voices in his head – at least for a while.

Sam's back straightened, causing Lucifer's arm to slight off his shoulders.

The Devil frowned. "Getting creative now, are we Sammy?" He turned and followed Sam around the room as the younger Winchester busied himself with his new task, feeling a modicum of hope.

By the time Dean was out of the bathroom, Sam had found an old pair of track pants out of the bottom of his duffle and was already slipping them on.

Dean looked baffled. "What are you doing?"

Sam slipped on the first shoe, already halfway done with the laces. "Going for a run."

His brother blinked at him. "At six o'clock in the morning?" He sounded incredulous.

Sam had the second shoe on and was already searching for his ipod. "Yeah – you know, get some morning air, get some exercise. I haven't done it in a while – thought it might be a good idea. I could always stop and pick up breakfast on the way back."

Sam paused, waiting to gauze his brother's response. As much as Dean was trying to help him, Dean couldn't protect him from his own mind – from _Hell_. Sam still felt disappointment in himself for putting a bigger burden on Dean's lap when his brother was already overburdened, but Dean had been adamant that Sam talk to him – so Sam did what he could to keep his promise.

_Stone number one… build on that._

Sam hoped to do just that. Build on other techniques and strategies to find ways to cope with his hallucinations and flashbacks the best way that he knew how.

Running, Sam thought, would be one place to start.

Whatever was going through Dean's head never seemed to make it passed his mouth. Only a shrug and an off-handed, "grab breakfast," seemed to be able to break his silence.

With a nod, Sam dashed out the door, stretching a minute to warm up his muscles before setting off at a trot.

Only a few minutes passed by until Lucifer showed up, jogging alongside him on the side of the road. "Really Sam? _This_ is your solution to your crazy?"

Sam ignored him, his stride a bit longer as he increased his speed. When his hallucination started whining about suburban roadside and how rain was a lot nicer here than in Hell, Sam put his ear pieces in and cranked his music.

It didn't drown out Lucifer's voice at all.

"Seriously? That's just rude, Sam. I'm here, talking, caring, sharing, reminiscing about the good times we had and you try and ignore me like that?" He touched a hand to his heart. "I'm hurt."

Sam continued on jogging, already catching Lucifer from the corner of his eye, slowing down. "If it keeps you away, I'll run all night." He yelled between breaths.

Lucifer didn't follow.

Sam smiled to himself and picked up speed. He had breakfast to find.

* * *

Sam's back rested against a rock, the morning sun just beginning to rise, giving an eerie red glow against the backdrop of never-ending desert.

He was on his own for once, his brother staying in Vegas alone, probably gambling and hitting on anything female with legs.

Sam smiled a little at that.

He rotated his shoulder, feeling aching muscles from where he'd slammed his back into a sharp rock last night, when Lucifer had snuck up on him while getting the fire started.

Lucifer had gotten a good laugh out of that.

Sam frowned. He knew Dean was hurt that he hadn't stayed with him – hell, they always did a trip to Vegas when they could.

But Sam wasn't coping well – hadn't been for a few weeks now.

The hallucinations were getting stronger – more vivid, harder to ignore. Add to that that Sam wasn't getting much sleep, if any, most nights, and Sam was nearing the edge. He needed to just get away – away from distractions, away from _people._

Even Dean.

Hard as it was, Sam knew he had to get himself back under control first, recharge his batteries, manage his hallucinations better.

A shadow blocked out the emerging sun. "Enjoying the view, Sambo?"

The youngest Winchester sighed, reaching for his cooling mug near the fire, ignoring his guest.

Lucifer shook his head, sinking to the dirt next to Sam. "This could have been paradise, you know. _I_ could have given you paradise." The devil glanced in his direction, lips pressed thinly together. "But oh, no. You had to go and ruin things."

Sam ground his teeth together before taking a sip of his coffee, looking anywhere but at the body next to him.

Lucifer sighed loudly, slapping his hands against his knees, startling Sam. "Really Sam, how long can you go on ignoring me? It's so _rude_. Especially with how attentive I was to you in the Cage."

Sam paled. Wrapping his long fingers around the mug, so he wouldn't spill it from the sudden chill, Sam took another long sip, hoping the hot liquid would warm him in his suddenly cold stomach.

He damn near jumped in the air when he felt Lucifer's strong hand wrap around his wrist as he brought the cup down.

Lucifer looked at him seriously, eyes boring into his. "Sam – I thought I taught you to share, kiddo. What's a little blood between us, huh?"

Sam looked down at his cup held between his hands.

Full of dark, red blood.

Sam tossed the mug, watching the liquid splash against the warming sand, staining it black.

Glancing to his left, Sam found himself alone, but could hear the echo of the devil's laughter across the flat desert plains.

Sam bent his head down, cradling his head in his hands. Only a few more days alone, just enough to get through this rough patch, and then he'd go find Dean.

For the first time in a long time, Sam let the tears fall as he tried to pull himself back from despair.

_End_

* * *

A/N: I'll try to do more writing in the New Year (New Year's Resolution, yay!) - okie dokie? :D

A/N #2: If any spelling or grammar errors, just let me know via pm please, not in a review. Virtual cookies in thanks!


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